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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701144">I trust you won't let me go alone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutebutpsyco/pseuds/cutebutpsyco'>cutebutpsyco</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Related, Character Study, F/M, Game of Thrones 6x01, Introspection, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Pre-Relationship, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, a lot of narrative and introspection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:55:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutebutpsyco/pseuds/cutebutpsyco</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The cold has never been her enemy, and yet now it was, crawling up her skirts, soaking them with the snow and making her movements slower. Too slow and too clumsy for her to keep up with Theon’s. She had no idea where they were going, and she was sure that he didn’t either, but everywhere was better than Winterfell. </i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I trust you won't let me go alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsaremembers/gifts">jonsaremembers</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I want to thank jonsaremembers for this. </p><p>Their prompt was: <i>show!theonsa, exploration of their internal monologues as they flee Winterfell, anything goes behind that</i> which is the reason why the only dialogues in this fic are all taken from the show (esp episode 6x01). I might love this kind of fic too much, and I hope you'll like it.</p><p>Mind the tags for the possible warnings. </p><p>As always, not beta-d and nothing belong to me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sea-green eyes trailed down the grey walls of the place he called, for so long, his home. It never looked like one, and it took him longer to understand that it had been that much, while deep in his heart he loathed the idea of turning his back to the place where he was born. And yet, not that the house really turned into a prison, he understood, if he didn’t do that much before.<br/>
That was the place where he became the man he was. Going back to the Islands showed him the truth, underneath all the fake expectation he had. Maybe Theon had always known. Maybe he just felt useless, being the ward, the prisoner. He couldn’t tell why he betrayed the people he considered a family. And he knew that the reality was a different one. He did that because they never considered him one of them. Nobody, but Robb. And he felt obliged to help the only friend he had ever had. </p><p>Why he stabbed the King in the North, Theon tried not to think about. What happened next wasn’t something he can ponder and consider, not now, not when he had the opportunity to do, for once, something good. The only opportunity to make amends for his cowardly behaviour. The jump would have probably killed him, them, and yet it had the sweet smell of freedom, something he might not deserve, but that she did. If he was going to die, he would have done that as Theon Greyjoy, not as Reek. If he died, he would have while saving Sansa Stark, while asking forgiveness to the House that took him as a hostage but showed him more attention than his real one. </p><p>He owed it to Robb, who has been more than a brother than Rodrik and Maron has ever been. He owed it to Ned Stark who, despite everything, taught him everything Theon knew. And he owed it to Sansa, who might hate him for all the good reasons, but was the only person who could help the North now. She was trusting him with her own life, and Theon couldn’t back off. His life was meaningless, by now, but he has to save hers. So he took her hand as best as his missing and aching fingers let him and jumped. </p><p>--</p><p>The cold has never been her enemy, and yet now it was, crawling up her skirts, soaking them with the snow and making her movements slower. Too slow and too clumsy for her to keep up with Theon’s. She had no idea where they were going, and she was sure that he didn’t either, but everywhere was better than Winterfell. </p><p>Sadness washed over Sansa at the thought. She would have never imagined that her own house could become her prison, she wondered why in the songs the knight always saved the princess before. Before the fall, before the horror. Tyrion Lannister told her that much a long time before, life was not a song, and yet she still believed that he was the wrong one. She needed to believe the Imp to be wrong. </p><p>But no lady in the old songs had to endure that much, no lady in the songs had to run for her life, no lady was ever left in the cold snow with nothing to give her hope to move on. She had been a foolish girl, the man who sold her to Ramsay always repeated that much, she was stupid, and she still thought there would have been a happy ending at the end of her story. Maybe it would have been better just to stop, they couldn’t run from the dogs and there was a possibility that if they stopped Bolton would have just killed them on the spot. There was nothing more she would have asked for, at that moment.</p><p>But that meant betraying her family. Robb never gave up, nor did her father. She was their heir, she had to go on, for them, for the name of the Starks. Her eyes went to Theon’s, in front of her, their hands still connected. She knew he was probably thinking about the same people and that, somehow, helped Sansa to move a step forward, getting closer to him and further from the castle at their backs. </p><p>“You can’t stop,” He told her, his rushed voice so different from the cheerfully one that she was used to hearing when he played with Robb and Jon in the yard. She heard the fear, the urgency, but sunk against his body when he stepped closer, helping Sansa to walk in the high snow. </p><p>She dared to look at her backs, while yet another bark reached her ears. Everything seemed to be the same, and endless expanse of trees, all similar to each other. She wondered if they were running in circles and the idea frightened her even more. Maybe it was all Ramsay’s wicked game. Maybe they would have never been free. But she didn’t dare to say those words out loud. She needed to believe they had a chance. </p><p>She had no idea how long they ran, she lost count of the times she looked at her back and didn’t even know any longer if she was hearing the dogs getting closer or if it was her mind making their barking seem closer. She couldn’t tell, she didn’t dare to do anything that wasn’t running and looking behind her. Maybe, she didn’t even really want to know. All that mattered was not to stop and to put as much distance as possible from her and Winterfell. </p><p>“We need to cross the river,” Theon’s voice, once again, broke its way through Sansa’s thoughts. And only at that moment, she seemed to realize where they were. The waterfall and the strong noise of water seemed to be the prelude to an undeniable death. But a part of her knew that it would have been better than what was expecting them if Ramsay would have found her and Theon. </p><p>She was freezing, the idea of getting into the water which seemed to be even colder scared her, but, once again, she had to try everything, she must at least take that little chance she got. She already decided to put her thrust in Theon’s hands, and despite everything, she knew she made the right choice. She might have hated him for what she did to her family, but she saw what Ramsay did of him.</p><p>She almost didn’t recognize him, at first, and while she wanted revenge for Bran and Rickon, what happened to her father’s ward was something she could have never wished for. Maybe Sansa couldn’t forgive Theon, but she saw in the depth of his eyes how much he regretted his choices. She didn’t want to forgive him, but, maybe, she already did, she decided to put her life in the hands of the man, and she couldn’t back off now. </p><p>A small step what all she had to do, a small step toward the possible promise of both death and freedom. The ice under her boot cracked and once again coldness reached her legs. Panic, though, was even stronger than the feeling, the idea of the stram just carrying her with it and leaving her without breath, while dragging her unconscious body down, and down… “I can’t.”</p><p>--</p><p>Everything was white, so white to hurt his eyes, so white to the point where they, in their dark clothes, seemed too easy targets for whoever was looking for them. Theon would have killed himself, if only he weren’t such a coward if only he could have the courage to take a sword and put an end to his miserable life. </p><p>He didn’t deserve to live, not after what he has done, not after the betrayal of the only people who ever treated him as a family, even more than his own. He has never been a Stark, he knew that much, and yet they accepted him between them. He should have died before taking their home, he should have died before becoming the person he was now, but he couldn’t do it now. </p><p>It wasn’t just his valueless life he was run for. It was Sansa’s, and she must be safe. She was the reason why he jumped, she was the only person who looked at him as a human being after a long time, and she deserved the happiness she used to fantasize about. Maybe she would never get that much, but he had to try, for her, for Robb, for Ned.<br/>
He could see that she was scared, and could see her fear in Sansa’s eyes; he understood her, but, at the same time, he knew they couldn’t stop, not at that moment, not never. </p><p>“It’s the only way to lose the hounds,” he said, moving a step closer to the river himself. The heir of the Irons Islands could see the ice shining under the cold light of the cloudy sky, but pretended not to. They couldn’t look back, the only opportunity was to cross the river and reach the Wall. Jon was there, and there he would have met his faith. Theon wasn’t afraid of that. </p><p>“It’s too cold, I’ll die,” Sansa's voice was this close to completely breaking, a mere whisper for which he didn’t have any comfort words. He wished he was able to know what to say, but he didn’t have any time to do it. He just had to have her keep moving. The barking and the yells were getting closer and closer; they didn’t have any time to stop and ponder. It was the only opportunity they had. </p><p>“I saw what these dogs do to people,” He answered, instead, trying to silence the voice that was starting to come back, prepotent, in his mind. He saw what they did, and yet he did nothing, he stayed there, incapable even to look in the eyes of Ramsay’s victims, he witnessed and dared to think that they were lucky because they were going to die. Never once he thought he could step up and try to save them, because, selfishly, he tried to preserve his own life. But what life was that one? Saving Sansa wouldn’t erase what he had done, or better, hadn’t. “This way is better.”</p><p>He slowly moved back, holding her and trying not to think about his aching hands. He couldn’t, he just had to focus on bringing her to the other side of the river, trying not to think about what he could have done, trying to remove from his mind the image of people being devoured by Ramsay’s hounds. All of them started to look like Sansa, and he knew that there wasn’t anything he could do to stop him. </p><p>He moved another step back until his legs were down in freezy water to the knee, Sansa followed him, the water rapidly soaking her cloak. He wanted to tell her something, but all he could think about were vain words, meaningless ones that couldn’t, in any way, offer the help she needed. So the only thing he could do was going on and hoping to be strong enough not to let Sansa be dragged by the streamflow. </p><p>His feet slippered against the uneven ground and the cold water hit his chest, leaving Theon without his breath. Sansa followed immediately, the weight of multiple soaked layers of fabric slowing her movements in the water and bringing her to collapse against the Greyjoy. And, for the first time since he jumped, Theon was afraid they couldn’t make it. The other side of the river was too far just like its feeble promise of freedom. </p><p>--</p><p>Sansa couldn’t tell how they managed to reach the other side of the river. More than once, she felt her eyelids flutter shut, to just close her eyes and give up about everything. Maybe dying in the cold water would have been a nice death, maybe it would have been like falling asleep. But she couldn’t because Theon kept moving on, dragging her, helping her with every step. </p><p>She told Greyjoy she hated him, and still, he was helping her, he was doing everything to save her even if she was slowing him. He saved her, he promised her something to fight for. He told her she was not alone. She couldn’t stop, not now. So she bit her lower lip and took step after step, fighting against the mud which tapped her feet, fighting against the current and the ice of the water, fighting against the tiredness which was taking over her body and against the weight on her cloak. Because that was what wolves do because so did Lady when she came into the world. Because she was Sansa Stark. </p><p>The other side of the river seemed like a vision, like a promise of summer in the middle of the coldest of the winters, so close and yet so far. A shaking gauntlet reached for her while helping Sansa to reach the other side of the river. Snow and wind were the only friends who were waiting for them outside of the water, and while all Sansa wanted to do was to stop and rest for a while, she knew they couldn’t. Ramsay would have looked for them in all the corners of the Seven Kingdoms, and there weren’t places that they could reach where to hide, not for the two of them alone. </p><p>“Over here,” Theon said, a moment later, starting to walk again. All she wanted to ask was to sop, but she could see that he was at the end of the rope too, and didn’t dare that much. “Come.”</p><p>Like a dead weight, she followed, unable to search for possible threats waiting for them behind the looming shadows of the three they were once again surrounded by. She couldn’t think anymore, all she wanted was just to reach the Wall, and, with Jon’s help, take back their home.<br/>
A gust of wind embraced her and a shiver went down her body while she looked for a fake idea of warmth in the safeness of the cloak. It didn’t help at all, but moving was better than just staying there, everything was better. Even if every step was killing her. </p><p>Theon stopped, and for a brief instant, she feared it was because Bolton’s men found them. She didn’t want to think about that possibility, but when the Greyjoy turned to look at her and moved toward Sansa, helping her to move faster in the snow, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.<br/>
He stopped by a fallen tree and the small warm coming from the other’s body seemed to be all she needed to take the final steps. </p><p>She couldn’t tell if that was Theon’s intention, but her body just fell against the snow. She closed her eyes, fighting against another shiver and trying to push back tears that were looking for their ways out of her eyes. </p><p>“Sansa?” She just wanted to stay like there, close her eyes and sleep and wait for when her knight would have saved her. But that wasn’t a song, and the only person who saved her wasn’t a knight in shiny armour. He was the man who turned his back to her family, and, at the same time, was helping her. Maybe Theon Greyjoy wasn’t the knight of the old songs, but he was proving himself to be her knight. And she had to be strong for him. </p><p>And that was she needed to force her eyes open, trying to focus them on Theon’s face. It was hard, it was difficult, she couldn’t move, her body didn’t do what she ordered it and only then memories started to fly back in her mind, images, rapid and without meaning, where the reality and her grimmest fantasies seemed to mix together. Ramsay taking her, and him finding her and Theon were all the pictures the shadows of the trees seemed to be able to put in front of her eyes. They needed to run, they couldn’t stop, he would eventually find… </p><p>And unknown and unexpected weight pushed against her sight, arms around her middle and a hand pushing softly against her back, dragging her closer to the soft warmth coming from her left side. Theon, her brain provided, daring that much as closing her eyes again, this time not to keep the horrors away but just to focus on the breathing chest pushed against hers. </p><p>They weren’t safe, she knew it, she was far well too aware of the danger they would have to face, but, just for one moment, she could stop, and be grateful for him. She dared to hope they would have rested for a while, but, the exact moment she closed her eyes the echoes from the searching party seemed to reach them. She stilled, feeling Theon doing the same a moment later. </p><p>“Stay here,” He said. “I’ll try to bring them as far as possible from you.”</p><p>She knew why he was offering to do that much. She knew that he felt guilty, she knew that he would have done everything to save her, but she wouldn't let him. She would have been still in Ramsay’s hands if only it wasn’t for him. Panic, again, took over Sansa’s eyes. She didn’t want that, she needed him, she couldn’t stay alone. </p><p>“No, no,” Almost a plea. She hoped Theon understood it. “I won’t make it without you.”</p><p>“You will,” Another whisper, and then he let her go and all the cold that his body fought was now back embracing her. She couldn’t survive alone, not with him. “Go North, only North. Jon is Lord Commander at Castle Black. He will help you.” </p><p>Sansa nodded, against every instinct of her body, against her wish to just answer him back that they would have gone together. She knew a part of her knew, that it was possible their last chance. And then, once again, she was alone. </p><p>--</p><p>“Get me,” That was the only thought at which Theon could think about, moving as fast as he could far away from their improvised shelter. If Ramsay’s men got to him, maybe they would have stopped to look for Sansa. </p><p>He just hoped to give her enough time to run away. He could suffer more pain, he must, if that meant that Sansa was safe. The further he could bring the searching party, the better, and yet he completely stopped when he found himself in front of the men who were looking for them. It wasn’t far enough, he knew that. Sansa had to run, he hoped she did. He hoped that was enough to make up for what he did. And in front of the armed men he stood, if he couldn’t bring them further, he would have stalled them. </p><p>“Where is Lady Bolton?” He hated that name, hated the idea of the Boltons taking away everything which still remained of the family which too him in. But he couldn’t say that much. He didn’t have any right to do that. </p><p>“Dead,” He answered, instead. </p><p>“Liar.” </p><p>“She broke a leg when we jumped from Winterfell,” Another lie that he probably detected, but he couldn’t risk a thing. “I let her die in the snow.”</p><p>And then the hounds, the fucking hounds, started to bark again. And Theon knew that he failed Sansa, he promised her he would have saved her, and the only thing he did was to prolong her agony. He ran, but his body was useless and the cold made it weaker and slower. He tried to stop them and tried to put his body between the soldiers and Sansa once they reached her, tried, once again, to ask for forgiveness he didn’t deserve. </p><p>Sansa’s panicked face was everything he was able to look at, and he saw how she was accusing him, she put her faith and trust in him, and he broke them once again. He wanted to say he was sorry, he really was, but he couldn’t because it was all his fault. He was behind forgiveness. He just offered her to the Boltons, and there was nothing he could do, despite everything. </p><p>He has dragged them both to be cornered, surrounded by enemies and once again prisoners. He stood there, between the guards and Sansa, petrified by fear. It was the end, after all, he’s done to save her, after everything he went through. If he had to die at that moment, that wasn’t a bad way to go. But he knew the man those soldiers worked for, and he knew it wouldn’t have been a merciful death. </p><p>“I can’t wait to see which part of you will cut off Lord Bolton, now.” The soldier said as if to prove all deepest Theon’s suspicion. He didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t. The only thing he was repeating to himself was that he failed Sansa, he failed the Starks, once again. </p><p>He didn’t care about himself, the only person who mattered was Sansa, and she was going to suffer because of him. </p><p>--</p><p>She couldn’t tell what was going on. A moment before a man was dragging her from her skirts, trying to push her with them and, a moment later, another knight started to ride toward the party assaulting the man who spoke with Theon some moments before. </p><p>From her hiding spot, she couldn’t see what was going on, her breath condensing in white clouds over her eyes while she tried to search for repair against the fallen tree. For the first time she wished she learnt how to use a sword but, all she could do at that moment was to try to make herself as invisible as possible and hoping for the best while searching with her eyes for Theon. </p><p>She had no idea how long the fight lasted, her shaking body was the only thing that was keeping her on the cold ground, unable to do anything, unable to tear her eyes away from the bodies which were clashing and falling in front of her until, finally, everything went still again and she could recognize Brienne of Tarth as their saviour. She tried to raise on shaking legs, tried to ponder if those people were friends or enemies. She couldn’t tell, maybe she didn’t even care anymore. A part of her was sure that she couldn’t trust anyone. That was the part which chooses to follow Theon, though, and he proved himself to deserve her trust. </p><p>He was the only reason she was still alive, he was the only person she would willingly follow. She looked at him, the woman kneeled in front of her, repeating the words she has heard from her father and mother and from Robb over and over again. He nodded, and she knew she could trust Brienne. </p><p>“And I vow…” She answered the woman’s words. “That you’ll always have a place by my heart and…”</p><p>“Meat and mead at my table,” Theon suggested, she repeated it a moment later, her eyes went to the man’s. She hoped they would have a moment, she hoped she could thank him, but, for the moment, all she could do was nod once again. She was safe, she knew that much. And it was thanks to him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always, kudos and comments are appreciated!</p><p><b>wanna say hi?</b> come on tumblr <a href="http://myrxellabaratheon.tumblr.com/">@myrxellabaratheon</a> and <a href="http://ironstrange-is-the-endgame.tumblr.com/">@ironstrange-is-the-endgame</a><br/><b>do you want a fic written by me?</b>Know how to have one on my ironstrange tumblr</p></blockquote></div></div>
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